


these bones are made of breakable things

by jamesstruttingpotter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, MoC james potter yay, angst and hurt/comfort everywhere guys oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 02:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4083583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamesstruttingpotter/pseuds/jamesstruttingpotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Lily overhears Alecto Carrow and Evan Mulciber talking about James Potter during a routine Head Girl patrol, she very quickly realizes that the burgeoning war is about to come crashing down on her head. Unfortunately for her, Mulciber is interested in bringing about that chaos a little earlier than she'd planned. Throw in an argument with James and a Cruciatus Curse, and Lily's got the makings of a lot of trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	these bones are made of breakable things

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this really got away from me. I guess I’m making up for the fact that I haven’t written a lot of jily in the past… year, really.
> 
> I’ve always liked the trope of James fighting pureblood extremists on Lily’s behalf, just because it seems like the stubborn, dangerous, fool-in-love thing that he would do, but then I started thinking about how much the pureblood clan would hate James for being a blood traitor. And Lily being Lily, I’m sure she wouldn’t stand for threats being made against James, much like how he wouldn’t stand for them being made against her. So, I’m taking a trope and putting it on its head.
> 
> I’ll warn here for violence, both mentioned and executed.
> 
> All that being said, thank you for reading. I hope it doesn’t disappoint.

Lily’s in the middle of her patrols when she hears it: a whispered dialogue coming from the spare classroom on her left.

She rolls her eyes and pulls out her wand, ready to take a few points from some third-years coming back from the kitchens, when one mutter catches her interest.

“ - Potter, doing us all a disservice by tramping around with his lot - “

Despite her better judgment, she lowers her wand and creeps closer, lip curling in disgust when she recognizes Evan Mulciber’s rich tone. He continues, saying, “He’s converted Black, some say, though I always knew Black was a traitor, ever since the Sorting.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Alecto Carrow’s voice is sharp. “The point is, Potter’s turned us down, and the Dark Lord is going to want to know that. I’ll send an owl tonight to the Lestranges, Bellatrix should be more than capable.”

“Looks like that blood line is going the same way as the Weasleys’,” Mulciber says, almost lazily.

Lily can barely feel her fingers gripping the wood of her wand as her mind whirs. James had been approached by the Slytherins? When? Why would You-Know-Who try to recruit James? And  _why_  did he think he wouldn’t need to mention this to her?

The sound of footsteps coming toward the door has her raising her wand; when the Slytherins come out, she takes momentary satisfaction at the surprised expressions they both don.

“Romantic rendezvous?” she inquires lightly. In the dimness, she sees Carrow’s face contort into disgust.

“Keep your nose in your own business, or I’ll hex it off,” the Slytherin bites out.

Lily’s voice slides into boredom: “Terrifying.” She sees a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye and says, without looking away from Carrow, “It’s already ten points each for being out of bed at nine-thirty, Mulciber, I wouldn’t tack on an extra fifty for attacking the Head Girl.”

“You think I care about the House Cup?” the boy sneers, drawing his wand anyway.

“I’m sure You Know Who’s told you all to keep your noses clean, and I’m not sure hexing authority figures qualifies as such. Besides, after your shoddy performance during the last Quidditch match, I’m sure you’re eager to  _win_ some House points for a change.”

“Enough of this.” Lily is quite inclined to agree with Carrow, and prepares to send them off with just the loss of points. The other girl, however, gives Mulciber’s wand a glance. “A simple  _Obliviate_  will take care of anything her dirty ears managed to overhear.”

“Yeah, Charms has never been your strong suit, has it, Carrow?” Lily mutters, despite the dread that strokes with cold fingers at her spine.

Mulciber tips his head to the side, surveying her silently. She represses a shudder at the feeling of his lingering gaze. She is painfully conscious of the fact that as Head Girl, she’s at a distinct disadvantage: she cannot be the one to instigate a duel. Her heart is thumping so painfully that it’s a miracle her opponents can’t hear it. Still, she keeps her face impassive and her hand steady. She is, she knows, a formidable threat, despite what they’d like to believe about her blood; her memory jumps to just a month ago, when Mulciber had had to carry Avery to the hospital wing after a nasty run-in with both her and James.

“No Potter to help you now,” Mulciber taunts quietly, as if the same recollection had entered his own mind. “Not that it matters, anyway; we’ll get to him in time.” 

He abandons all pretense with a razor sharp smile. “I know you heard us, talking about his decision to turn the Dark Lord down. You’d think he’d know by now that no one says  _no_  to the most powerful wizard in history. So here’s the question: what are you going to do when we kill your precious blood traitor boyfriend, Evans?” His words are barely above a whisper, but they slither into her ears and settle heavy on her tongue, choking her reply. “You think it’ll be nice and clean, the way we dispatched Edward Diggory? That was amateur work, Evans. That was done by people who don’t know how to make their victims  _hurt_. But Madam Lestrange?” He laughs. “Alecto and I,  _we_  took mercy, told Potter to rethink his choices. But he’s so in love with your filth that he’d rather be strung up, bloody and broken,  _Crucio_ -ed to death by his best friend’s cousin - “

“Shut up,” Lily says, forgetting the weight of the Head Girl badge on her chest. “Shut up before I make you, Mulciber.”

He laughs. Carrow draws her own wand. “I’ve waited for a long time to get my hands on him, and the Dark Lord rewards patience,” he continues. “Maybe he’ll let me have a go. I’ve seen the way you Muggles fight, all fists and feet - might be more satisfying that way. Get him bruised and bleeding.”

“Mulciber,” Alecto says, but he ignores her.

“What do you think, Evans?” he continues. “I don’t even need my wand to kill him, do I? Just one fist to break his nose, one foot to break his precious Chaser’s arms - then it’s easy, isn’t it? I’ll just keep kicking, one foot against his stomach until he’s vomiting up blood. And that’s when I’ll draw my wand.” Lily’s lungs feel like they’ve frozen over. Mulciber is leering. “The Carving Charm is useful for more than what old Flitwick’s taught us, you know. Makes a prettier pattern on skin than on wood planks. Maybe he’ll be begging for me to kill him, then.”

“Mulciber.” Alecto’s voice is more insistent, and he whips his head around to look at her, impatient.

“I’ll Obliviate her when I’m rea - “

Lily seizes her chance and cries, “ _Confringo_!” He flies backward into the stone wall, wand clattering to the ground. Alecto fires off a hex in her direction and she ducks, casting a Stinging Jinx in retaliation. It doesn’t land, but Alecto’s Cruciatus does.

Blinding pain envelops her for the first time, shooting white bursts of heat across her eyelids. She can feel her nails gouging into her palms, her spine cracking with the force of its arc. When Lily comes to, her throat is raw from screaming. Alecto is laughing and Mulciber is hovering over her. Too late, Lily scrabbles for her wand. He kicks it out of her hand and grabs her neck.

“You’re not going to need that,” he growls. Her head slams against the floor. She can feel his shin digging into her torso. His palm is crushing her esophagus mercilessly, and through her fluttering eyelids she sees his face hovering over her own. “If I can’t have Potter yet, I’ll have his bitch first.”

The last thing she hears is footsteps on the staircase behind them.

* * *

What wakes her is the insistent glow of sunlight against her eyelids. She makes a face, convinced for a moment that Mary has forgotten to draw her window’s drapes closed again. The tugging pain she feels in her side when she tries to roll over, however, brings the previous night into focus. With a gasp, she sits up, then lets out a hiss as her pain intensifies.

“Lay back down, Lily, please.” A soft hand on her shoulder urges her back onto her pillows, and when her eyes adjust to the light she sees a mass of faces around her hospital wing bed. Mary and Marlene are closest, followed by Remus and Peter. Curiously, James and Sirius are at the foot of the bed, and the former won’t even look at her. For the moment, however, she focuses on the others.

“What - “ She breaks off into a cough, and Marlene’s hand moves from Lily’s shoulder to busy itself with a pitcher of water on the nightstand. “What happened?”

Mary’s face has lost its usual ruddy complexion. “Professor Slughorn found you after he heard screaming coming from the corridor above his office. M - Mulciber and Carrow were…”

“They’ve got detention until the end of term, and Slytherin’s lost a hundred points,” Marlene cuts in, sending a quelling look in Mary’s direction as she presses a glass of water into Lily’s hand. “Drink this.”

“What on earth happened?” asked Remus, gazing steadily at Lily.

“I was on patrol,” she muttered. “I came across them in a spare classroom, talking about their  _extracurriculars_  - “ Here Peter blanches and Mary flinches while the others exchange dark glances. Lily, eyes flickering from face to face, notes that James still isn’t looking at her; in fact, his jaw is clenched in a way that reminds her of their nastier arguments. With a burst of mingled fear and anger, she remembers the point of the Slytherins’ conversation.

Marlene, perceptive as always, gives Lily an enigmatic look and clears her throat. “How about we leave Lily to rest before she has to recount her story?” she suggests in a tone that isn’t really a suggestion at all. Remus, Peter, and Mary all blink rather owlishly and give hasty goodbyes and get-better-soons to Lily as they’re rather unceremoniously pushed out the door; Sirius, however, lingers to both give her a kiss on the cheek and share a look with James. When the door closes behind him, Lily sets her glass of water down and folds her arms.

The silence between the two of them is uncharacteristic and deafening. James, getting up from his chair, paces a few steps away, hands clenched together behind his back. With a sudden spin, he regards her coolly. “Dueling two Slytherins on your own now; one might mistake you for me.”

Whatever she was expecting, this wasn’t it. A part of her still aches to touch him, to roll up his sleeves and feel his bones underneath his untouched skin, find the fluttering pulse at his wrist that can reassure her that he’s still alive, here, with her. His tone and its insinuation, however, feeds the spark of anger in her chest until it is a wildfire, catching onto her voice like her words are gasoline spilling out of her mouth. “Don’t you dare, James,” she responds, voice dangerously low. “Don’t you dare equate those incidents with this.”

“Are you kidding me?” His volume very quickly rises. “This is exactly the sort of shit you would get angry with me for, and now I turn around and see you doing the same exact - “

“Well maybe,” she cuts in, quiet with fury, “now you know how it feels to be sitting at the bedside of the one you love, hoping that their  _chivalry_  doesn’t get them killed - “

“Oh, it’s chivalry now?” he exclaims, turning to face her fully. “Not  _stupidity_  or _recklessness_  or whatever else you called it two months ago?”

“Two months ago, you got into a completely unnecessary  _fistfight_  in the middle of  _Potions class_ ,” she hisses.

“Unnecessary?” He breaks off to spit out words that Lily cannot technically understand, but gets the general gist of. “The wanker was talking about his fucking  _pedigree_ , if ‘mudblood’ came out of his mouth one more time I was going to make sure his own blood came out next - “

“Because that solves everything, doesn’t it, violence and hatred, James, that’s exactly what Voldemort - “

“Yeah, I reckon so, and it looks like you’re subscribing to that theory now - “

“Not over some idiot spewing mindless drivel in the back corner of a busy classroom; some of us have  _restraint._ “

“Merlin, Lily, then where the  _hell_  was that restraint last night?”

“They were talking about you!” Her voice is finally louder than his, and she finds that she cannot stop what comes out next. “Mulciber was talking about torturing you for  _sport_ , James, in ways so fucking terrifying that I - it was  _sick_ , the things he wanted to do, the things he found entertaining to tell me - God, I… so forgive me my  _hypocrisy_  when it comes to dealing with - “ Her voice breaks and she wrenches her gaze from his, angrily telling herself not to cry.

Madam Pomfrey hurries out of her office, expression disapproving. “Potter, Evans, for Merlin’s sake, you’re in a hospital wing, not at opposite ends of the Quidditch pitch! Potter, if you’re going to agitate Evans like this then perhaps it’s best you return later!”

“I’m - “ He sounds stunned. “I’m sorry, I’ll - “

“Just leave,” Lily interrupts, scrubbing a hand over her face. She doesn’t look at him. “Please, just… leave.”

Her heart skips a beat, then two, and then she hears the doors creak open and shut again. She sinks further into the mattress and buries her face in her pillows, hoping like hell that Madam Pomfrey will be kind enough to ignore her tears.

* * *

She spends a fitful night in the hospital wing, waking every hour to visions of blood and broken bones. When she’s discharged the following morning, she goes straight to her dormitory and turns the bathtub knob to scalding hot. Mindless of the fact that she has Transfiguration in five minutes, she sits down and stares out the tiny window opposite her, barely feeling the pinpricks of heat as water fills up in the tub around her.

A while later, she hears the bathroom door open and familiar footfalls enter. If she turns around, she knows she’ll see him standing there with his Cleansweep, but what she doesn’t know is if she wants to see him. “So.” His voice is measured, which is a feat for him. “You found out.”

Through her fog of weariness, she feels a flicker of anger jump to life in her chest. “Yes,” she says, still toneless. “Yes, I found out that the Death Eaters are recruiting. Congratulations, James, you’ve got the Auror Department, Puddlemere United, and Lord Voldemort all asking for your CV.”

“Don’t.” She can’t tell whether he’s angry or asking. The dull click of wood against stone signals that he’s put his broom down and she tenses. Sure enough, he crouches down next to the tub. She meets his eyes, chin jutted out defiantly.

His gaze doesn’t linger on hers too long, but rather moves downward to examine her throat. His fingers gently probe the bruises there, then slide downward to examine her rib cage.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” he says suddenly, and she finds herself staring at the smooth expanse of dark skin right in front of her eyes, how it stretches over his cheekbones and rolls into the wilderness of his hair.  His eyelashes tremble against the glass of his spectacles. “I know I’ve… well, I’ve been knocked around a bit, both on the pitch and off, but - “ His voice catches, and Lily’s head snaps up, taken aback. “McGonagall fetched me from the common room, wouldn’t even tell me what it was about, and then Slughorn’s there in the hospital wing telling me about how he found you unconscious, with that bastard’s hands all over your neck.” His next exhale is shaky. “You were just lying there.”

She stands up, draining the tub and tugging on her bathrobe with quick motions before getting down on the floor with him. His arms wrap tightly around her shoulders; she can feel his heartbeat drumming against her cheek.

“Please,” he says, and now she can tell that he is begging. Not commanding, or suggesting, or even asking. His voice is hollow without pride, earnest in a way she’s never heard before and never wants to again. “Please, Lily, don’t do that again. Not for me, not for anyone.”

She looks up, gaze steady. “You didn’t hear him,” she replies, and James closes his eyes like he’s suddenly too weary to keep them open. “He was going to kill you in the most brutal way possible, whatever he could dream up. I’ve seen what he can do, we both have; Mary still can’t say his name without stuttering.” She withdraws slightly from him, tilting his face up until he looks at her again. “I hadn’t even known that they were after you, and to hear that they’re already plotting how to  _kill you_  - I couldn’t. Damn being Head Girl, damn being only seventeen, and damn being stuck in this castle instead of fighting - this war’s taken enough from me. It  _won’t_  take you.”

James is very still. “I should have told you they tried to recruit me,” he says eventually, face curiously blank.

“Yes,” she agrees without heat. Then, after a moment, “Why didn’t you?”

He rakes a trembling hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I was… afraid, I reckon. Didn’t want to frighten you, too.”

She waits.

After a few minutes, he reaches for her, and she folds herself willingly into the space between his knees. “This war…” he starts. “It’s taking everything we’ve got. Padfoot’s lost his family for good, Remus can’t find a job, Peter’s scared out of his wits, and you know better than I do how Mary and Marlene are… I just - I was ashamed. To be asked to join an organization that’s terrorizing the Wizarding World, calling for the mass genocide of innocent people, that’s so deeply involved in the Dark Arts… I mean,  _fuck_ , Lily.” He looks down at her, and her heart breaks at the terrified expression on his face. “What did I do wrong?”

She grips his hand until she cannot feel where her fingers end and his begin. His breath is warm against her temple, and she strokes his unruly hair from his forehead. Slowly, he tilts forward until he is resting on her shoulder, hands spanning the expanse of her back. His arms are almost painful as they hold her tight. 

“You turned them down,” she murmurs into his neck. “I’d say you did nothing wrong.”

The stone floor is biting into her knees and her hair is dripping all over James’ shirt, but as they sit in that grey, cramped bathroom, Lily thinks she could exist right there, hugging and being hugged by James, for a long time.

And so she does. 


End file.
